


The Great Escape

by LobsterLobster



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LobsterLobster/pseuds/LobsterLobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The finale has left our heroes in pretty dire straits. Jenny is desperate to complete her mission but she's been delayed by a terrible car crash! Who else is there to save the day but Yolanda the NorthStar rep?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the finale! This story is my take on what's going to happen next! I plan to write a chapter for each character, to see how they escape. Help may come from some unexpected sources. It's time for Sleepy Hollow to step up to the fight!

Jenny

Everything felt fuzzy. Heart pounding in her ears, Jenny slowly regained consciousness. She gasped at the stabbing, constricting pain in her chest. Afraid to open her eyes, Jenny fought the panic in her heart and focused on her combat training. 

Slow your breathing. Listen. Take account of your body, then your surroundings. 

The creaking of bent metal shifting, the tinkling of shattered glass falling onto pavement, the hiss of something leaking from a broken hose somewhere. 

She was upsidedown. There was a stunning pain in her head, her side, her left arm. Her legs ached, but she could still feel them. Couldn’t move much though.

‘Hold still,’ she told herself, fighting another wave of dizziness. 

Slowly, very slowly, Jenny opened her eyes, blinking until the cloudiness subsided and allowed her to see a little clearer. It was dark. Nighttime. How long had she been here? What had happened?

‘I’m in Abbie’s truck. Crashed, rolled in the middle of the street. It’s definitely totaled,’ Jenny pulled her thoughts together, struggling to focus through the disorientation, ‘Abbie is so going to kill me.’

‘Abbie…Abbie is…with Crane, they went to Purgatory. Are they there now? I had to tell them something. Very important, what was it? It’s so tight in here, I have to move. Can’t breathe! I have to get out!’

Jenny struggled to move, but couldn’t quite reach the seatbelt. It was no good. The blackness started to seep back in to the edges of her vision. 

She went still again, fighting to slow her breathing. 

Slowly, it all came back to her in sickening flashes; the sign in the backseat of the truck, the saint’s name is a sign, who’d have thought Moloch had meant that literally?, she had to tell Abbie and 

Crane before it was too late…the headless horseman standing in the middle of the road and her only thought had been that Abbie was right, he was a lot more frightening when pointing an M4 at your head, then it had all gone black. 

“Hello? Can you hear me? Miss Mills, are you there?” a small, voice called out, “Hello?”

Jenny was extremely confused. It sounded like a woman’s voice, but she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. 

“He…Hello?” Jenny managed, her voice weak, “Hello?” she tried again a little louder.

“Hello, my name is Yolanda and I’m your NorthStar rep. Your vehicle appears to have been in a collision. Do you need assistance?”

‘Yes! Thank God! I absolutely need assistance!’ Jenny’s thoughts raced, ‘I need to get out of here and find Abbie!’

“Ye…help…” Why was it so hard to speak?

“Help!” Jenny cried out. It was so dark and she was on a small road in the middle of the woods, alone. 

“I’ve alerted emergency services. They are on their way to your location right now. Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” Jenny managed, “I’m stuck. I can’t move.”

“Don’t worry, help is on the way. I will stay on the line until they arrive. Abigail Mills, can you tell me what happened? Is there anyone else with you?”

It was strange to hear this unfamiliar voice, but her words helped Jenny to stay calm.

“Jenny…I’m Jenny. Abbie is my sister,” she answered.

“Jenny, are you alone? Is anyone else hurt?” the NorthStar person asked.

“No, I’m alone,” she said painfully, “I have to find Abbie…” 

“What do you mean? Where is she?”

“Abbie is in danger…I need to tell her…” Jenny trailed off. 

“What kind of danger? Is Ichabod with her? Would you like me to call her phone?”

Jenny’s eyes fell closed and the voice faded into static for a few minutes. Just a few minutes of rest, that’s what she needed. What a strange day it had been. How did the NorthStar person know Crane  
anyway? It was weird.

“Jenny, stay with me now! Please keep talking!” the voice brought her back again. 

“It hurts…” Jenny said quietly. Everything hurt. Her heart ached with fear for her sister, for Crane, for everything.

“Help is on the way, just hold on a little longer. The medevac should be there in…3 minutes.”

Jenny turned her head slowly. Sure enough, she could faintly hear the thumping roar of a helicopter. The sound grew louder with each breath. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. She’d always wanted to ride in a helicopter. 

………………………..

To Be Continued!


	2. Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Luke? This chapter is set right before/during the finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the finale, the man interrogating Captain Irving almost says something about Detective Morales, and we kind of assume that he’s wanted for murder, but I think maybe Luke is missing and they don’t know what happened to him. I think Luke is going to have to face what’s going on in Sleepy Hollow and decide if he’s going to help the Witnesses or not.   
> I know we’re worried about Jenny, but don’t worry, I’ll get back to her story soon! For now she’s been flown by medevac to the hospital. She’s going to be okay, but she is badly hurt and she’s going to need some help finding her sister and Crane.

Luke

It was cold. Luke shifted his stiff body and blinked his eyes. He was sprawled on a hardwood floor in a small room. 

He froze. ‘Where am I? How did I get here?’ A hundred questions filled his mind in quick succession. 

‘This is bad. Definitely bad.’

Suddenly he remembered the words of an old Army buddy who’d once told him, “If you ever wake up and you don’t know where you are, just pretend to be asleep until you remember, because someone is probably watching you!”

He’d laughed it off at the time, since he wasn’t the type to get blackout drunk, at least not after the one time. But all the same, he held still for another moment, listening, trying to recall what had happened. 

It was quiet. There were no voices, no footsteps, nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees. There must be a window open somewhere. 

That’s right, he was at Captain Irving’s cabin secluded away in the woods outside of town. He and Devon were supposed to set up a guard to watch Irving’s daughter and wife, but the last thing he remembered was standing outside, by the car, shortly after they’d arrived. 

Luke groaned as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. How long had he been lying there? From his awkward position, if seemed like he’d just collapsed onto the floor. 

“Devon?!” he called and then thought better. Something was seriously wrong here and maybe it’d be best to stay quiet for now.

He stood up, finding himself in a small bedroom. There was a twin bed and a desk with a pile of notebooks spread across it.

Next to the desk was a wheelchair, knocked over on its side. That belonged to the Captain’s little girl. Where is she?

Every sense on alert, Luke pulled his gun and held it carefully at his side. 

The bedroom door was ajar. He moved quietly out into the main living room. At first glance the cabin appeared deserted, but the front door was open, letting in a cool breeze and the nighttime sounds of the forest. 

“Captain?!” Luke called out cautiously, but there was no immediate response.

“Devon?! Hello?” 

Again, no response. 

Luke stepped further into the living room. The furniture was all pushed awry, as if there’d been a struggle, and all but one lamp had been knocked over. 

Then he saw the priest’s body crumpled on the floor, his neck twisted at a wholly unnatural angle. Luke’s eyes widened with horror. 

Acting quickly, he checked each room in the cabin. Clear. The killer had left already. 

He ran out onto the wrap around porch and down the ramp to the driveway. Apparently everyone else had left as well. Captain Irving’s car was gone, but Luke’s squad car and the priest’s car were still parked on the gravel. 

‘Now, did they leave voluntarily? That’s the question. Probably not,’ his mind raced, dreading the worst, ‘Why would they leave me behind?’

Luke continued looking around for any clues, any piece that could explain his current situation, his lapsed memories. He didn’t see any sign of another vehicle’s tracks or of forced entry. 

‘Where did the killer come from? Did he leave with the Captain and his family? But the little girl needs her wheelchair. None of it makes any sense!’

Luke walked around the porch again, pausing by the sliding glass door. He rubbed his foot against the ground. There was something gritty spread across the floor, near the doorframe. Bending to look, he could just make out a white powder, spread out like someone had dropped a salt shaker. 

An awful feeling of dread welled up in his stomach. Luke gripped his gun tightly and turned around gradually. Eyes wide to take in every detail of his surroundings, Luke scarcely breathed as he searched, looking for what, he didn’t know, but he knew there was something missing. He’d missed something important.

Time seemed to grind to a snail’s pace as Luke ran to the porch railing, his pulse pounding in his ears, and vaulted over the side. He landed heavily right next to the prone figure, barely visible through the bushes. 

“Devon! Can you hear me?!” Luke yelled desperately, “Devon! Come on, man! Don’t do this now!” 

Hands shaking, Luke knelt and cradled his partner’s limp body in his arms. 

“No! Devon, no. No…” he moaned. 

He’d lost too many friends in the war. This shouldn’t be happening, not here. Nothing in this town made any kind of sense anymore. He felt like his life had become a runaway railcar, careening off the tracks into the unknowable. 

Luke fumbled in his pocket for his phone, meaning to call this in to the precinct, there was an officer down! His friend had been tossed aside, neck broken, for no reason! But there was no reception this far out in the woods.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and stood, hands clinched into fists. 

“I will find who did this. I promise,” he said more firmly than he felt, “I will make this right.”

Luke walked back around the house, intending to use the radio in his car to call for help, but stopped short when he noticed a small security camera set up in one of the windows. Dimly he remembered bringing the gear and setting it up before Captain Irving arrived with his family. 

Luke rushed inside to check the security feed. The cameras would surely have captured anyone approaching the house. The killer must be on there. 

It was well after midnight and it looked like the house had been quiet for hours. Luke reversed the recording to the very beginning and started the playback. 

He saw himself and Devon testing the cameras, making sure the angles were right so that every approach to the cabin was covered. There they were, by the Captain’s car in the driveway, helping his family unload. That was the last thing he remembered, standing by the trunk, Devon placing his hand on his shoulder and saying something. 

After that his memory went black, but there he was on the laptop screen, walking back into the cabin. A few minutes later, he and Devon left again, checking the perimeter. They stopped at the sliding glass door and Devon bent to look at something and then stood back up. 

What came next happened so quickly, Luke thought, ‘No, that’s impossible,’ and had to backtrack the recording and play it again. Luke watched himself grab his partner from behind, struggle briefly, then snap Devon’s head sharply to the side and throw him bodily over the railing before calmly entering the house. 

Luke stared at the laptop, stunned, unable to comprehend what he’d seen. 

A few minutes later the other camera showed Captain Irving and his ex-wife leaving through the front door. Captain Irving was walking quickly but his ex-wife stumbled and grabbed his hand. They walked to the Captain’s car, followed by a strange figure that was small in stature, like a child, but it moved…strangely. It seemed to blur and flicker on the recording, like maybe it was really a shadow. 

The small car on the video drove away and the cameras continued recording. Nothing else happened on the screen. 

Luke stood locked in place, staring at the laptop but not really seeing anything for long minutes, trying to put an explanation, any explanation, together in his head. 

‘There is no way I killed my partner. I would never do something so terrible. But that was me on the video. How? Even if I wanted to, which I have never wanted to, there’s no way I’m strong enough to grab Devon and hold him tightly enough to kill him like that! Even during sparring practice, he nearly always beat me. I only rarely got the upper hand on him, even when I tried to surprise him.’

Luke stood there for a long time. It didn’t make sense. 

He looked down at his hands. 

‘The last thing Devon must have felt is betrayal. He trusted me. We swore to protect each other.’

‘I need to get out of here,’ Luke decided at last, forcing his shocked mind to move forward again. 

‘When the others come back, and somebody will come back, sooner or later… they will see all this and what other conclusion is possible? I’ll be arrested for murder.’

‘No! I’m not a murderer!’ Luke reached out decisively and grabbed the laptop, snapping it closed and yanking out the power and the video receiver. 

‘I have to get out of here,’ he thought, tucking the laptop under his arm and walking towards the door, ‘until I can figure this out…’

He broke into a run. Yes, he would run, until he could sort out what was going on. 

Luke drove into the night, speeding along winding back roads. He had no idea where he was going; just that he had to go further, deeper into the mountains, far away from this cursed town. 

The laptop sat on the seat next to him, where Devon usually sat. 

‘Devon trusted me. What happened to me? How can I trust myself?’ 

……………………………………….

To Be Continued! 

A/N: I know this chapter was really dark, but I kept thinking about how traumatized Luke would be to wake up in that situation! I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him yet!

Preview: Ichabod has been buried alive so he doesn’t have much time to make his escape, but even so it is more than enough time to be tortured by thoughts of regret and worry for Katrina, kidnapped by Headless, and Abbie, trapped in purgatory.   
I don’t want to give away what’s going to happen, but I will say that Yolanda will play a large role in his rescue!


	3. Ichabod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite time travelling Revolutionary has been buried alive! What is going through his mind? Just when all looks hopeless, help will come from a most unexpected source!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Yolanda save the day again?!? Read on to find out more!

Ichabod

Ichabod screamed as the coffin lid fell closed over him. Dry vines tightened their grip on him, constricting his arms and legs. In a matter of moments the thin light filtering through the wooden slats of the coffin was blotted out and clumps of dirt fell on him. 

He coughed and gasped in the dark, fighting against the dirt lodged in his throat, fighting the vines wrapped around his body, fighting a rising panic. 

“Katrina!” he tried to yell, but it came out more like a whimper, “Oh Katrina, my love!”

“No. Nooo….” He moaned. It felt like his heart was breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. 

How had it come to this? It was the stuff of nightmares, come to life. He’d only had a precious few minutes with Katrina, to see her face light up at the feeling of real dirt beneath their feet, the warmth of the sun on their skin. Then to see her carried away by the headless horseman, and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it. 

‘Katrina, I’m so sorry,’ his thoughts spun around and around, ‘I’m so sorry. In my desperation to save you from purgatory I’ve stumbled right into Henry Parrish’s betrayal and you are again denied freedom.’

Henry Parish, no, Jeremy’s betrayal was stunning in its completeness. All this time, he’d been right in front of Ichabod and Abbie, helping them along, leading them to this terrible fate. 

Ichabod could hardly breathe. His head felt light and the harder he struggled against the vines; the tighter they gripped him, biting his skin. 

Ichabod closed his eyes. 

‘Slow your heart,’ he ordered himself, ‘you’re not dead yet.’

As he had on his first day of combat, aiming his musket at another line of men on a grassy field, cannonballs roaring, men screaming, horses running in all directions, Ichabod recalled the words of his first drill instructor. 

“Breathe slowly. Resist the panic, and it will flee from you,” the gruff veteran had boomed to the new conscripts gathered before him. He’d then gone on a long tirade against the ungrateful, traitorous colonists, but that first lesson had struck a chord in Ichabod. 

Gradually, through sheer force of will, Ichabod managed to relax his muscles and calm his racing heart. 

‘As long as you are still alive, there is still hope of escape,’ he told himself, wishing he believed it. 

It felt as if he’d been swallowed by the earth, forgotten, erased from the living world. But even so the vines holding him began to loosen, retreating to the edges of the coffin. Perhaps they thought that he’d given up and died already. 

There was a bubble of air trapped inside the coffin with him, hot and musty as it was. 

‘I’m trapped here and Abbie is trapped in purgatory,’ Ichabod realized with a heart wrenching dread. 

‘Abbie…Abbie….’ he called her in his mind, cautiously pushing his hands against the unyielding wooden confines, ‘I promised I would come back for you. How could I let you make such a sacrifice?   
Lieutenant, you are the bravest one of us all and it’s taken me this long to realize it.’

“Remember our bond.” That’s what he’d said, embracing her so tightly, back in that ghostly church house in purgatory. 

Now Ichabod hugged himself tightly. He didn’t notice the tears staining his face. 

Abbie was a true friend. In spite of, or maybe because of, the sheer improbability of their meeting, and the bantering and teasing, and the way she both thrust him into the modern world and interpreted it for him, Ichabod felt a strong affection for his partner. 

In that moment he missed her more than anything. The reassuring feel of her small hand gripping his before they stepped through the glassy portal between worlds. The ease with which she drew her gun and shot Moloch’s dark soldiers, not a bullet wasted. The way she wore that odd cap on baseball days. 

The long nights pouring over old books in the Archives, riding around town in her car, eating donut holes in the mornings, he missed it all.

Sadness settled over Ichabod with the darkness around him. 

“Do-Do-Da!-Do-Da-Dah!” A bright music started playing, exceedingly loud inside the coffin. 

Ichabod’s eyes opened wide in alarm. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what was happening.

The music kept playing. It was coming from something inside the grave with him. That was Abbie’s ringtone!

‘Of course! I still have her smartphone in my pocket!’ he was stunned to realize that he was receiving a phone call at a time like this.

Ichabod awkwardly bent his arm to reach the phone, scraping his elbow on the side of the coffin in the process, and after what felt like a lifetime finally managed to bring it up to his face.

Holding the brightly lit phone just inches from his face made it very hard to focus on the little icons. He tapped the small green telephone symbol, just as Abbie had taught him.

“Hello?”

He heard a woman’s voice come through the phone. 

“Lieutenant?!” he asked, bewildered and ecstatic at the same time. 

‘No, it can’t be her,’ he thought again, somewhat regaining his senses, ‘Surely there is no cell phone service in purgatory.’

“Abbie Mills, are you there? Hello?” the woman’s voice came again, clouded by static.

“This is Ichabod Crane. I’m afraid Miss Mills is presently unavailable,” he remembered his manners first, then hastened to add, “and I myself am in serious trouble.”

“Ichabod? Is that you? You’re breaking up. This is Yolanda! Can you hear me?”

“Yolanda! You cannot imagine how happy I am to hear your voice!” Ichabod exclaimed. 

“Ichabod, you need to know, Abbie Mills’ sister Jenny was in a car accident. She’s hurt but she’s alive. I called the hospital but they won’t tell me anything else.”

Ichabod squeezed his eyes shut at the news. With all the chaos of the last few hours, he’d entirely forgotten about Jenny.

Yolanda continued, “Before the medevac arrived, Jenny kept saying something about Abbie being in trouble. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yolanda, please listen carefully,” Ichabod did his best to speak calmly and clearly, “I have been buried alive in the woods near the river.”

“You were what?!?”

“A ten minute walk northeast from the footpath, there is a clearing. There are four white trees,” he explained.

“Ichabod! Wait! Did you say you are buried alive right now?” Yolanda asked in alarm.

“Yes, I need help! I was…” how could he possibly explain this situation so she would understand? “I was attacked. A man put me in a wooden coffin and buried me in the ground! I haven’t much time!”

“Ohmygod!” Yolanda exclaimed, but then seemed to regain her composure, instructing, “Stay calm. I’m going to have to hang up and then call you again through the NorthStar system so I can get your location, okay?”

“Okay,” Ichabod said hesitantly. He was afraid to lose his last connection to the outside world. Before he could say anything else the phone went silent and he was alone again.

The seconds ticked away at an agonizing pace until the phone rang again and he answered immediately.

“Yolanda?”

“Ichabod, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” he replied. It was difficult to make out her words through the static and he was starting to grow lightheaded. 

“I have your location and I’ve alerted emergency services. Help is on the way.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Ichabod said, almost afraid to fully hope for escape, but at the same time grateful for his unseen confidant. How bizarre was it that he would spend his last moments on earth speaking with a woman he had never met in person?

“I can stay on the line if you would like,” Yolanda was saying.

“Yes,” Ichabod found himself nodding in the darkness.

“But I recommend you stay calm and don’t talk unless you have to. Hold still and try to keep your heart rate low to conserve the air you have left,” she explained in reassuring tones.

“Okay,” Ichabod said, forcing himself to breathe more slowly. 

“Don’t worry, help will be there very soon. You’re going to be okay,” she said. It sounded like she was about to say something more but she didn’t.

“Please hurry,” Ichabod said and then fell quiet. 

………………………………….

To Be Continued…


	4. Katrina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Headless finally has his prize, what is he going to do with Katrina? Will she find a chance to escape? Will the Horseman of Death’s current decapitated state pose an obstacle to communication? (I’ll give you a hint, the answer is yes.)

Katrina

Her surroundings swam fuzzily before her eyes. Katrina blinked slowly, letting her foggy eyes adjust. She waited a few moments to let the dizziness of waking from a deep sleep fade from her mind.

It was dark but there was torchlight nearby, throwing long shadows around. 

She was sitting on the floor with her back against a wall. The wooden floor was very smooth, worn from age. There was something viscerally familiar about the place.

Looking up, she could just make out two rows of long wooden pews…

“No!” Katrina gasped, “It can’t be!”

This was none other than the church the she had spent so many hours, which had become days, become years and decades, kneeling, pacing, hoping for a sign, lighting candles and praying for her lost son. 

Jeremy. Her beloved, beautiful infant who she had abandoned so that he might live, so that he might be spared her fate. 

But he wasn’t spared. Not really.

The memory of what had happened to her the past few hours came back full force, jolting the last piece of sleep from her mind. The feeling of real earth between her fingers, the clear smell of the forest, Ichabod’s joyful but short-lived embrace, straining to use her magic…the revelations by the four white trees. 

Panic creeping into her heart, Katrina tried to push herself up to stand, only to find that her wrists were bound.

She held up her hands and looked closely. A strange thin black band looped once around her wrists. 

This wasn’t purgatory. The Horseman of Death had come for her. Abraham. He must have brought her here.

This was it, the original church where she had left her son on that desperate day. How had it survived all these years?

A sound came from near the front of the church. Straining her neck, Katrina saw the figure of a man without a head crouched on one knee, leaning over something before him. 

She tried to be brave, as always, but the sight of him filled her with fear. 

‘Ichabod, help me!’ she called in her mind.

Katrina shifted her legs beneath her. Good, her feet were not bound. 

Focusing again on the black band around her wrists, she tried to pull on the loose end with her teeth but the band only clicked tighter, cutting into her wrists. Whatever unfamiliar binding this was, it was very strong. 

She looked up again only to see the headless horseman striding towards her. Katrina managed to get her feet under her and stood up to face her captor. 

“Abraham Van Brunt, your actions are completely unacceptable! What you’re doing here is wrong!” she said defiantly. 

Abraham was unfazed by her words. He had a strange looking rifle slung over his shoulder and several bandoliers draped across his chest. He reached out and closed a scarred hand around her forearm and forcefully led her to the center of the church.

“Please, if any part of you remembers what it is to be human, you must know this is wrong!” Katrina declared as the headless man all but dragged her down the aisle between the pews, “You must stop! Abraham! Stop this madness!” 

They reached the front of the church by the low wooden altar. The horseman paused and turned towards Katrina. 

She stood her ground, refusing to cower in fear. Katrina had dedicated her life to fight for independence and she was determined to speak out, even to the last. 

“Whatever unfairness you may have been dealt in the past, that is no justification for what you have become! The coldness in your heart will doom us all!” 

Katrina expected at least some kind of response, but as the seconds grew into a long pause, the horseman didn’t appear at all provoked. 

Katrina shook her hair out of her eyes and stared boldly at the headless horseman. Suddenly a new thought occurred to her.

“Can you even hear what I’m saying?” she asked uncertainly. 

Finally Abraham let go of her arm. He leaned over to pick something up from inside a large black bag set on the floor. 

Glancing quickly towards the rear of the church, Katrina entertained thoughts of running for it. 

‘No, not yet,’ she told herself. There wasn’t enough time. Abraham had already turned back to her holding something in his hands.

He raised up his hands and Katrina could see that he held a sparkling jeweled necklace. It was gold and covered in hundreds of diamonds that caught and spun the smallest ray of light. It was just like the style he used to favor when he was still mortal and engaged; gaudy and ridiculous and exceedingly expensive.

Abraham stepped closer to Katrina, holding the necklace up.

‘My God, he intends for me to wear it!’ she realized, shrinking away, but in her surprise she didn’t move quickly enough. 

The next thing she knew, she was standing uncomfortably close to the bloody stump where Abraham’s head should have been and the horseman was clasping the necklace around her neck. 

When he moved to fix her hair that had gotten stuck under the necklace, Katrina stepped backwards.

“No!” she said in disgust, knocking his hand away and taking another step back. 

For a second her memory flashed back to the day that Abraham had announced their engagement, dressing her in an imported dress, all frills and lace and pearls. She could name several homesteads that, in those harsh days, had been on the brink of starvation and the decadence of her arranged marriage repulsed her. 

Not to mention Abraham’s affinity for twirling a loose strand of her hair in his fingers, this had made her unaccountably uncomfortable even then.

The horseman stepped towards her again so, in desperation, Katrina said, “No, I’ll do it.”

Moving awkwardly on account of her bound wrists, Katrina pulled her long hair free and adjusted the heavy necklace to lie nicely centered. 

“There,” she said. 

What was going on here?

Apparently satisfied, the horseman again grabbed her forearm and dragged her along until they were standing in position in the center of the church, shoulder to shoulder. 

Everything was still and quiet for a long moment. 

Abraham let go of her arm. His cold hand fell back to his side, near what appeared to be a pistol holster.

Katrina held still for three long seconds then she could take no more. She bolted, hoping to make for the door at the rear of the church. 

She’d gotten a full two steps before the horseman turned and roughly grabbed her arm again. 

“Let me go!” she cried, to no avail.

“Why am I here? Let me go! Please, just let me go!” she begged, not really thinking it would work, but too frustrated not to try anyway.

The horseman shoved her back into position so they were once again standing side by side, facing where the preacher would have stood to address his congregation, many years ago. 

This time he did not remove his icy grip from her arm, so tight that she was sure it was starting to bruise.

‘Be patient. Just wait,’ Katrina repeated in her mind to calm herself, ‘Wait for the right moment, as always. If he wants to stand here in an empty church for no reason, so be it.’

But there must be a reason. Nothing happened to her by chance these days. 

Katrina risked a glance at her decapitated companion. If she tried to pull away, he only pulled her back into position. Otherwise, he didn’t move a muscle. 

The minutes passed slowly, dragging on until they’d been standing there in silence for at least an hour, Katrina judged. 

She tried yelling, begging, coaxing, cursing, everything she could think of, but she got no response from Abraham. He continued to stand in place.

Eventually Katrina stood as still as she could, shutting out the ache in her arm and the stinging in her chaffed wrists, and calmed her mind. Centering her thoughts, she reached out with her powers, feeling the ebb and flow of the currents around her. 

Her powers had diminished significantly from lack of use in this realm, but she could feel the old magic still inside her, in her very blood. With time, and focus, she knew that the full extent her control would return. 

For the moment, however, she could think of nothing that would help in her present situation. From the horseman beside her, she sensed only a hollow emptiness, tinged with a deep, deep darkness. 

Several hours passed in this manner. Katrina shifted from foot to foot. Was this to go on all night?

She stifled a yawn, despite herself. 

If only she could get free, she could help Ichabod. He was surely in trouble, left to the devices of the Horseman of War. 

‘It’s no use torturing yourself over what might be happening to Ichabod. You’ve done all you can,’ Katrina reasoned with herself, ‘Wait here in this moment and when the time is right, act.’

What that moment might look like, or what she might do, she couldn’t tell. 

Another hour passed and Katrina began to shiver. 

Finally she broke the silence and addressed the headless horseman.

“There is something wrong with you.”

As ever, no response.

“Why is the Horseman of Death standing like a statue? Are you thinking, planning? Are you talking to Moloch?” she paused, then added, “Are you sleeping?”

‘No, he’s clearly not sleeping,’ she contemplated, ‘It’s almost as if he’s staring into space, lost in memory. Is he remembering something from the past?’

Then it dawned on her. Abraham was thinking about the past, specifically about the wedding that he’d never had. He was stuck in his own fantasy world, playing out some obsession that he’d clung to all these years, some dream of Katrina standing beside him, wearing sparkling jewels, in a church. 

Katrina turned to look at the horseman, saying slowly, “Abraham Van Brunt, you have lost your mind!”

He shifted a little bit so that, if his head were attached to his shoulders, he would have been looking at her sideways, eyes narrowed in an angry glare. 

Katrina’s eyes widened as she belatedly realized what she’d said. As if he needed to be told what he’d lost.

“Sorry,” she said in a small voice. 

Katrina didn’t know how many hours later it was when the first glow of sunrise began to filter through the boards tacked up over the old, dirty windows. 

Somewhere outside a horse neighed. The sound sent a cold shiver through Katrina. 

Finally the horseman let go of her arm. He turned and strode quickly to the rear of the church, rifle still slung over his shoulder, pushed the doors open, and was gone. 

Katrina collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, unable to do anything but watch Abrahams’ sudden departure. 

There was the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door, then the hooves of a horse galloping away through the woods. 

………………………..

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to be extra creative with this chapter, which was fun. This was definitely the most awkward kidnapping ever!
> 
> For Katrina I was channeling some defiant Princess Leia energy! Even though Katrina is surely upset and traumatized by recent events, she’s still determined to fight, even to the bitter end, like Leia on the Death Star.


	5. Abbie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after Abbie realizes that she is trapped in the Purgatory dollhouse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There seem to be a lot of stories where Abbie is mad at Ichabod for leaving her behind and so on. This is not that type of story. I wanted to make my own version of what might happen. Remember that Abbie decided on her own to stay behind and face down the demon that she’d been scared of all her life. Abbie’s not the victim here, she’s the hero! (albeit a hero trapped in a creepy life-size dollhouse, but anyway…)  
> I hope you like it!

Abbie

Her memory-self was saying something, but Abbie wasn’t listening.

“No! Crane! I have to get out!” Abbie ran through the dollhouse, back the way she’d come, looking for a door.

“You can’t leave,” memory-Abbie followed her.

“This is your home now,” said memory-Jenny. 

“Crane is in trouble! I have to tell him!” Abbie banged on the dollhouse front door, but it wouldn’t move. It wasn’t a real door, just part of the wall decorated with paint and small windows to look like a door. 

For a moment she stood still and looked out the windows, searching the misty woods for an answer. There was nothing out there. 

She turned back to face the twelve year old versions of herself and her sister. 

“Crane, and Katrina, and Jenny are in trouble! What am I supposed to do?” she demanded. 

‘Crane and Katrina are with Henry Parrish right now. They don’t know who he really is…what he is. I’ve got to warn them,’ Abbie’s thoughts circled around, a feeling of dread sinking in, ‘We’ve been betrayed, led astray all this time, and now Crane is walking right into a trap!’

“There is nothing you can do for them now,” her memory-self said calmly and a little sadly, then repeated, “You live with us now. We’re safe here.” 

“Safe...” Abbie repeated. 

‘That’s what I told Jenny, all those years ago. Just pretend this is our house. Don’t be afraid. We’re safe here.’

Trapped was more like it. She was stuck here, in Purgatory, inside some once-lost piece of her own mind, unable to help Crane when he needed it most. 

Sure, the betrayal stung. After all, she’d put her trust in Henry Parrish, considered him a part of their team, only to discover that he’d been lying to both of them the whole time. But it was the helpless feeling that hurt the most. 

Abbie turned and ran away from the memory-girls. She ran through the whole house, looking for a way out, for anything. 

There was no way out. There were no doors at all, just a maze of rooms and hallways.

She found herself in a small bedroom, the walls and matching twin beds all too-bright, fake colors. Abbie took a shaky step backwards, then another, until she felt the wall against her back and slid to the ground. 

‘Crane doesn’t know. He’s in danger. What if…what if Henry kills him, him and Katrina. I’ll be stuck in here forever…’ Abbie balled her fists and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill over. 

‘Crane is my partner. No, more than that. Be honest, Abbie,’ she told herself. 

‘He’s my best friend. Has been for a while now.’

She could remember the very moment when she realized that Ichabod was something special, that he was a true friend, the kind that comes along maybe once or twice in a lifetime, if you’re lucky. 

It was back when the Sandman nightmare monster was haunting her and she’d decided to face him directly in the dream-world. When Crane had gulped down the special tea in order to follow her into the dream, she could have sworn he was crazy. 

Then she was facing the Sandman’s hollow eye sockets, unable to move, and Crane had yelled to challenge the demon, only to have his arm cut off. It was enough, in those seconds where Crane fought for her, Abbie was able to gather her courage and fight back against the guilt and the fear that had been crippling her for so many years.

He risked his life for her when he didn’t have to. He brought her and Jenny back together.

Abbie took a ragged breath, pushing the palms of her hands against her eyes. 

‘We’re supposed to go through this together, for seven whole years. It’s not his time yet. Not yet! He can’t be dead. He just can’t. As long as he’s still alive, he will come back for me. That’s what he said. He promised. I have to trust him.’ 

The last thing Crane had said was, “Remember our bond. I will come back for you,” standing there in the little church, hugging her goodbye, one hand cradling her head. 

Memories of the past few months flitted through her mind. 

The first time she had met Henry Parrish, when she and Jenny had found him hid away in a little apartment tending his garden, when she’d asked him to help her find Crane, he’d said, “If your connection to your friend is strong enough, I could use it.” 

“It’s strong. Use it,” Abbie had declared. 

Had Henry been planning to betray them even then? If she’d known then, somehow, not to trust the Sin Eater, would she have done anything different? At the time, she’d had no choice. Crane would have died if it hadn’t been for Henry. 

If Ichabod had died that night, then the Horseman of Death would have been stopped. Did Henry save Crane’s life in order to protect the headless horseman? So that he could later become the Horseman of War and be free to terrorize the world alongside Death? 

Abbie sighed. Her life had always been complicated, but this was overkill. 

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. 

Whatever else he was and whatever else he had done, Henry himself had proved how strong the bond between the two Witnesses was. 

Why go to so much trouble, why make such an elaborate deception, playing along and helping them fight the Golem, helping them search for Washington’s grave? If the goal was to kill her or Crane, there had to be a better way. 

‘No,’ for a moment Abbie felt just like she did when she came up with the answer to a particularly challenging question on the FBI entrance exam, ‘The goal was never to kill us. It was to separate us.   
The whole plan, all along, was to separate the two Witnesses.”

And it worked; she’d played right into his hands, volunteering to stay behind in Purgatory while Crane took Katrina back to the real world. 

She did it for Crane. She couldn’t stand to see him tortured over Katrina any longer. He tried not to show it, but Abbie could tell. He couldn’t have come to the decision to redraw the map easily. He was hurting, more than he let on.

Abbie made her decision out of love. She really did want Crane to be happy. She wanted to help him. 

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Abbie wrapped her arms around her legs. She tiredly leaned her forehead against her knees. 

‘Don’t lie…’ she told herself, ‘It wasn’t all out of love or selflessness. I was afraid too.’

As much as she trusted Crane and cared about him, deep down, there was a small part of her that was afraid that Moloch’s prophecy would come true, that he would betray her. 

‘Maybe I chose to stay so that he wouldn’t have to say it first,’ Abbie thought, ‘It’s sort of like I broke up with him before he could break up with me. After all, that’s what I did with Luke. What I’ve always done…’

Abbie didn’t know how long she sat there. It was quiet but occasionally she could hear her memory-self and memory-Jenny moving around, playing house. 

Eventually Abbie stood up, wiping her eyes and pushing her hair back behind her ears. 

‘Feeling sorry for yourself won’t help anyone. If Crane is alive, he will come back for me. In the meantime, I’m not going to sit here feeling sad and lonely. I’m not scared anymore.’

Abbie wandered back through the dollhouse and found the memory-girls still in the kitchen, playing with the plastic plates and cups. 

Memory-Jenny turned to look at her hopefully, holding out a plastic mixing bowl, and asked, “Do you want to play?”

“No, not right now,” Abbie replied gently. 

“Show me again,” Abbie said, “Show me everything that happened in the woods that day.”

Memory-Jenny and memory-Abbie looked at each other then back at Abbie.

“Okay,” the younger version of her sister nodded then reached forward to place her hand on Abbie’s forehead. 

Her surroundings faded and were replaced by the forest in late afternoon, just after school let out. Abbie and Jenny were walking their bikes home. Up ahead there were four white trees.

“You’ve made a mistake, Moloch, putting me in here with the very memory that you stole from me.”

………………………………

To Be Continued…


End file.
